


Mission Complete

by acornandroid



Series: Requests [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor goes undercover, Crime Scene, Flirting, Fluff, Investigation, M/M, android murders, connor puts stuff in his mouth as usual, hank yells at him, its soft bc I'm soft, murder investigation, sort of slice of worklife fic, undercover Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornandroid/pseuds/acornandroid
Summary: “Jesus fucking Christ, Connor! Spit that out!”Hank’s rough bark of an order barely phased the android. He didn’t deter from the task at hand, his finger lingering on his tongue deciphering just what the liquid was that was pooled around the victim’s head. The murder had been a brutal one, most of the android victim’s synthetic casing has been melted away and burned beyond belief.





	Mission Complete

“Jesus fucking Christ, Connor! Spit that out!”

Hank’s rough bark of an order barely phased the android. He didn’t deter from the task at hand, his finger lingering on his tongue deciphering just what the liquid was that was pooled around the victim’s head. The murder had been a brutal one, most of the android victim’s synthetic casing has been melted away and burned beyond belief.

The analysis proved what he assumed at first glance. It was a mixture of cooking oil and blue blood. The cause of death, partnered with a rather brutal stabbing, was ultimately the vat of boiling oil that had been dumped over the victim’s head.

The victim. A VB800, formally a model designed to act in a retail setting who, after his deviancy, had gone to work in a kitchen at a local restaurant.

All the details added up to the last two investigations. An android taking a paying, normally human job thanks to the new laws that had passed in Detroit. Both murders brutal, stabbing, and usually finished off with something in the surroundings.

They had both been restaurants. The CCTV conveniently cut out, but not from android interference as Connor had come to deduce.

“Wash your fucking mouth out before you come near me again.” Hank grumbled, Connor finally cluing into what he was saying.

He frowned faintly. “I fail to see what other way you would expect me to investigate evidence, Lieutenant.”

Hank had moved over to examine the stove, the subtle movement of his facial muscles told Connor that he had just rolled his eyes. He realized, vaguely, that he no longer had to scan the Lieutenant with much thought in order to tell what he was doing. Connor just knew.

“I’m going to tell you that it was hot oil, but you already knew that.” Hank barely spared Connor a glance as he took in the rest of the evidence.

There was no nod, or any sort of movement from the RK800 as he stated his confirmation. “Yes. The victim did not shut down from the stabbing, but the contents from the pot on the stove destroyed the rest of his vital processors.”

Connor stepped over to where the large pot lay a short way away from the victim, on its side, the contents having been spilled earlier. He scanned it briefly, tilting his head just a little. It came up clean, which could briefly suggest that an android had committed the crime, though there were other messy errors that contradicted that hypothesis.

“There are no fingerprints.” He stated out loud, looking over at Hank. “Just like the other crime scenes.”

“Starting to think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands, Con.”

“Which one of the total three murders gave you that idea, Lieutenant?”

The look Hank gave him seemed both exasperated and a mixture of something else within the same expression. Connor’s head tipped to the side as he tried to deduce it, a faint smile playing across his lips.

Hank smiled in return.

**Warning: Thirium pump malfunction**

**Thirium levels – Normal**

**Flow – Normal**

**Conduct system check**

Connor blinked to clear out the messages, having no need for any form of check. These types of popups made themselves known more and more often around Hank. He had gotten used to them.

-

The ride back to the station had been calm. It was later into the night by this point. Connor sat calmly across from his partner, his gaze drifting every so often from his monitor over to Hank’s face. He had brought the human coffee earlier, since they both knew it would more than likely be a late night for them both.

“Did you get the staff list from this place yet?” Hank questioned, having set down his coffee mug. It was one Connor had purchased recently for him with his first paycheck as a working android. One of those customized mugs, the grainy printed picture of Connor himself hugging Sumo on it. The Cyberlife Internetwork had told him that personalized gifts were a way to show affection.

“Yes. There is a common thread.” Connor listed off, immediately. “A man by the name of Gregory Moore. Age twenty-seven, moved from Chicago to Detroit shortly before the revolution. So far, he’s been on the employment records for all three places, which is very hard for it to be a coincidence by now.”

“Yeah. No shit, Sherlock.” Hank snorted, huffing just a little.

Connor felt Hank’s foot nudge against his ankle under the table, but he refrained from constructing a physical reply for the moment. Their relationship had taken a soft dip into the side of casual, and Connor enjoyed it, but currently he was in a work state of mind.

Currently. Who knows how long that would last.

“Though there were no fingerprints anywhere near the crime scene.” The android continued, looking over at his partner.

“Could have been wearing gloves, Con.” Hank barely looked over from his monitor.

“I realize this. The cleanliness and the construction of both crime scenes indicate the signs of both human and android, but everything is assembled as if one person has committed the murders. The main suspect we have so far is also human.” Connor’s eyes drifted, studying Hank’s face calmly.

His now trimmed beard, his hair that Connor wanted to push back from his face. The subtle bags under his eyes suggested that he had not slept all that well last night and Connor wished he could have assisted with that. Wishing was a new, somewhat welcomed, side effect of his deviancy.  

Well, that work state of mind didn’t last long at all.

Hank leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing his broad hands over his face before dropping them. “All these restaurants have been on the same—”

“On the same street, yes.”

“Jesus Christ, Connor. Would you let me fucking talk?” Hank snorted, shooting him a look.

“Yes. Apologies, Lieutenant.” He gave a small smile, that suggested he really wasn’t sorry.

“…Bullshit. Anyways, they’re all on the same street. We could always set up a stakeout for this guy, try and figure out what’s going on and bring him in for questioning.”

Connor considered that for a moment, his LED processing slowly.

“All the victims have been androids.” He voiced, slowly.

“I’ll bring back the ‘No shit, Sherlock’ for this moment.” Hank gave him a dry look, one that informed Connor without analyzing too deeply that the human needed sleep.

“It is just a suggestion, Lieutenant, but maybe me going undercover could be an option.”

The look Hank gave him was one that suggested to Connor that maybe his idea wasn’t entirely crazy in his partner’s eyes. He seemed to be considering it, sitting up straighter with a thoughtful frown.

“You’d wanna go undercover in a restaurant, Con? Sure you’re up for that?”

“Of course, Hank. How hard could it really be?”

-

It was very hard.

Connor knew that humans could be a handful and rather grating but starting an undercover job as a waiter gave him an entirely different perspective. The more days he worked in this position the more he realized he would rather take gruesome crime scenes over someone complaining about how their meal was cooked.

Who knew humans could be this insanely picky. Connor did not envy any android that directly had to interact with the human race like this on a day to day basis. He thought he had done enough research to prove himself ready, but in actuality it was more than just reading reports and downloading code.

Hank began to frequent the small café everyday as well, so they could stake it out without too much suspicion. It didn’t take long for their suspect to be employed there as well. Connor had been present at the interviewing process in order to make his cover seem more effective. Him, Gregory Moore, and another young human male.

No criminal records came up for him upon Connor’s initial scanning but listening in on the interviews told him that the unknown man’s name was Richard Trade, age twenty-nine. No other research was needed, as Gregory was their main suspect.

He was working in the kitchen now, and Connor kept a careful eye out. He made note of beginnings and ends of Gregory’s shift, what car he drove, any other information he could gather. Currently, he picked up the plate from the handoff window, eyeing the suspect briefly before making his leave. They had been coming up dry with everything, and even Connor’s long-standing patience was wearing thin.

The RK800 walked back out into the dining area of the café, setting the plate down in front of Hank. Connor had been placing orders for him, not trusting Hank’s own choices of healthy food. He had gotten ahold of the human’s cholesterol consumption at home, and he was not about to let him ruin it during one undercover mission. Also, this position gave him a one up on monitoring the Lieutenant’s unhealthy caffeine intake levels.

“Shift ends at five—getting real tired of this shit, Con.” Hank muttered, not even looking up from the tablet he was reading. Connor could tell from the pinched expression on his partner’s face that it was not an exaggeration. The salad that he set down in front of him barely earned a glance from the older man.

“Nothing strange yet but I have my suspicions.” Connor set his vocal volume at a careful, low level. No need to give any of them away when the progress they had made, little as it was, was still progress.

“Oh, so now you’re getting hunches? Not just numbers in that head of yours.” There was a hint of a smile playing at Hank’s mouth. That crooked, soft one that he seemed to save just for Connor from time to time. It made his thirium pump do funny things, like stuttering its cycle.

“I have hunches, just like I have feelings, Lieutenant.” Connor tilted his head, though his muted expression was amused. He was getting better at expressing himself. “I’m certain you’re quite familiar with those.”

Hank gave him a look that suggested that if they were at home he would clearly have thrown something at him- possibly the napkin resting right by his left hand.

Connor merely smiled, then turned on his heel and headed back towards the kitchens. No more time for goofing around, even though it had only been a few minutes. They were working, and they had a case. Though it was worth it to take a few moments out of his time in order to assure Hank had something to eat that he would actually enjoy.

When Connor returned to the kitchen, he noted their suspect nowhere to be found. A quick scan of the place and the approximate time placed the most likely location was for Gregory to be on break. The only place humans tended to take their breaks was either out in the dining room entirely or out in the alleyway. Connor opted for the latter, as he had seen the suspect exiting through that door more than once.

After a moment of careful consideration for his actions, Connor headed towards the back exit. He pushed the door open—and froze halfway through, listening to the hushed, hurried conversation on the other end.

“I know—” That was Gregory, his voice higher pitched in what Connor could only describe as panic. The human’s heart rate was elevated.

A halt in the conversation proved that whoever was on the other line was speaking. Connor’s entire body froze, simply listening and waiting. He couldn’t give away his cover, not now.

After a few moments he spoke again, “Yes. Yeah, I know. He’s here. I can get the schedule—there’s another girl one that got hired too but that was after you.”

Another pause. Connor was recording everything for evidence, filing it all away into a carefully sectioned off part of his processors labeled ‘WORK’ and into the subsection entitled ‘CURRENT CASE’.

“Yeah. I can probably get them alone. Listen—maybe…you should just talk to someone? Move towns? I mean there’s therapists—” Gregory cut off abruptly, and Connor could see his feet move slightly. Judging by the position and the subtle movement the human had just flinched. “Okay. Sorry, sorry. Forget I said anything—”

The conversation had ended, and Connor quickly made his way back into the kitchen before he could be seen. When Gregory emerged, he looked somewhat shaken. Judging from his pulse and the fact that there was now perspiration on his hands. The man’s eyes found Connor in the crowded kitchen, and then suddenly flickered away almost guiltily.

That was not a good sign.

-

It had been enough evidence to warrant an interrogation.

Strangely enough, the suspect had gone rather willingly, though Connor had expected him to panic. To retain some of his cover it was Hank who made the arrest, and Connor who was now standing behind the two-way glass staring at his partner and the man across the table. He could hear their voices crackle through the speaker.

“Cut the shit, kid. We know you know something. No one makes cryptic fucking phone calls in an alleyway and doesn’t know anything.” Hank’s voice was rough, and he was probably just a little agitated. Connor had woken him up early for this, and he hadn’t had the chance to have coffee yet.

Also, it was noted that the use of the word ‘kid’ was not in any way, shape, or form similar to how Hank used the somewhat affectionate term with him. Connor filed that away for future reference.

Across the table, Gregory shifted as he grew a little more noticeably uncomfortable.

“I told you, I just called my brother.”

“You called your brother on your break to have a hushed conversation about…” Hank shuffled a paper on the table, looking down at it, “’Getting his schedule’ and ‘getting him alone’.”

The lieutenant slouched back in his chair once more, making a vague, wide sweeping gesture with his hands before crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I was just…telling him…about someone he might like at work.”

“Now that just sounds like a whole other shit storm, son, and that’s not what you tried to tell me the first time. Wanna try again?”

If Gregory looked uncomfortable before, he was practically crawling out of his skin now. Connor noted in mild observation that this was not a man who could kill someone, nor did he seem like someone who thought androids were low enough beneath him to warrant killing. He was too soft, and he was folding too easily under only Hank’s questioning.

Which, admittedly, was a little soft at the moment. Connor almost wished he would get a little more intimidating. It made his internal wires feel strange things whenever Hank got worked up.

The silence from the suspect was getting them nowhere, and Connor didn’t need a telepathic link to get Hank to do what he wanted him to next. They seemed to be on the same wavelength at moments, which was both a blessing and a curse. Connor liked to think that maybe he had finally figured out how Hank’s mind worked and was just syncing up with him.

“Alright. Skipping right to strike three.” Hank sat up straighter, leaning against the metal table and staring Gregory down. “You’ve been placed at all three places where androids have been murdered. You immediately take the fuck off to a new job a couple days after it goes down. Doesn’t that seem just a little bit suspicious to you? Because it sure does to me.”

The young man squirmed in unease, avoiding Hank’s gaze entirely.

“So why the fuck would you run if you had nothing to do with it, huh? Doesn’t this make it a little more reasonable why we’re so suspicious of your little calls?” Hank’s gaze was unwavering, Connor could tell from where he was standing. A subconscious human urge to lick his lips emerged, so he did just that.

Sometimes that intensity in his stare was a little too much.

“You wanna keep it in your fucking pants, maybe?” Detective Reed’s voice startled him out of it somewhat, looking over at the other man in the room. He had been standing there for the interrogation as well, and Connor had been trying to ignore him.

He decided any retort would escalate the situation further, so he merely looked back to the questioning in progress. Gregory looked like he was about to crack anyhow, and Connor repressed the urge to comment at how Gavin must have to be watching him awfully close in order to see his small movements like that.

Connor liked to think himself subtle.

“You got two fucking seconds, son. I’m losing my patience.” Hank sat back once again, making a show of shuffling the folders closed.

“I didn’t do it, honest!” Gregory looked up, seemingly having made his decision. The young man cracked under so little pressure. “I didn’t want to. He’s just so angry and he blames those things—”

Hank looked up at him, frowning just a little at the new information presented. “Who is angry?”

“…My brother. He hates androids. They took jobs away from our mom and she…didn’t make it. Every place we go they’ve beaten us out of work. I’ve managed to get the last few jobs, but he always gets cut. I told him it’s cause he’s angry, but he won’t listen. He won’t get  _ help _ —”  

“Slow down. What’s your brother’s name?”

“…Richard. Richard Trade. His dad married my mom when we were little.” Gregory suddenly looked sick, as if he had just realized that he had ratted out his family. Connor observed him very noticeably swallow, then sit back in defeat.

Hank merely stood, picking up the files and taking them with him as he made to leave the room. “Thanks for your cooperation. Sit tight, and someone will be back later.”

-

“Well the boy is certainly smarter than I originally thought.” Hank observed, sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, parked just a block away from the small café.

It was close to opening hours, and the schedule had been carefully worked to place Connor there, seemingly alone. They had used Gregory’s phone to inform the suspected murderer of the set up. If it all went according to plan, then they should be home before noon.

Connor selfishly wished it was a little sooner. It was raining outside, and he had recently discovered that part of his own personally deviancy was enjoying curling up with Hank on a rainy day and watching mindless television.

Snapping fingers in his face caught his attention and drew Connor out of his soft daydreaming.

“He panicked and cracked under pressure. I don’t think I would truly label that under smart decision making. It is just a panic response.” The RK800 observed, making a small twitch of a facial expression when Hank messed up his hair. That was hardly fair. Now he had to fix it.

“Don’t be a smartass, Connor.” The Lieutenant shot back, rolling his eyes and glancing at the café. “…I’ll be right outside. We’ve got back up around the corner—”

“I know, Lieutenant. This isn’t a first case, you know. We’ve done these many times.” He glanced over at Hank and noted for the first time the unease on his tired face.

Oh.

“Just fucking…be careful. Okay, kid?” Hank reached out, smoothing the hair down he had just mussed a few seconds earlier. The older man paused, as if realizing exactly what physical display of affection he was doing and pulled his hand away.

Connor, feeling like this was an important human moment, leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before simply slipping out of the car as if nothing had happened.

-

The trek over to the café was short. Connor already decked out in his suit like uniform.

He was on high alert, scanning each and every movement and surface, looking for things out of place. The key easily slipped into the lock and he entered from the side door, keenly aware of the gun resting hidden against the small of his back and just how much time it would take to grab it should any number of situations arise.

Suspiciously, the kitchen was silent. The android shut the door behind himself, trying not to make too much of a show as he scanned the area. This had to be appealing, as if he were just working, or a model that didn’t know the first thing about programmed self-defense.

The only other problem presenting itself was the need for evidence. Connor needed to witness an attempt on his life. It would solidify everything and leave the defense very little to work with.

The door to the walk-in freezer was opened by merely a centimeter. Connor’s small skirt of his optics over the surface indicated that it had been opened recently, likely when he had unlocked the door. Logically, that was where Richard was hiding, waiting to make his move.

So, logically, that was what Connor turned his back to.

He busied himself with cleaning the stove, mostly for show. Also, there was a small stain in the corner that had been bothering him for weeks.

Connor was keenly aware of every movement behind him. He heard the door creak, stop, and then creak open again when he did not turn around to every try and investigate. He heard the footsteps, the breathing. Everything matching up to a human unable to control himself- premeditated and relying only on rage.

At least those were the emotions Connor assumed.

He linked the odd human desire to murder to the same line of code that caused deviancy. Not in a terrible way, but in an unhinged, overwhelming fashion. The rush of emotions that some could control, and some couldn’t.

This was clearly a man that couldn’t.

Especially since Connor had just heard him grab the largest knife he could out of the block. Judging from the sound and the possible position it was an eighteen-inch blade.

So, he waited, and feigned ignorance.

From the footsteps the suspect was right behind him now, and he could tell from the reflection in the pot on the stove before him that the knife was raised above his head. Connor held the breath he didn’t need and waited until it was about to come down.

He twisted at the last moment, clearly catching Richard by surprise. Connor threw up his hand to block the damage, the blade piercing right through his palm. He twisted his arm, using the now embedded knife to his advantage to rip it out of the murderer’s hands. Clearly, this turn was not something he suspected.

So, he took one of the possible outcomes Connor had suspected and bolted for the side door.

With a show of surprising strength, Richard kicked it open. Connor was close behind, chasing after the criminal. He had expected this to go one of many ways- but Hank poised protectively in the alleyway wasn’t one of them.

He had expected him to be close by with back up, but not this close by. The struggle that Connor saw was sudden and in slow motion to him. He saw Hank draw his gun, and he saw Richard do the same. A weapon Connor would have located if he had scanned the human over instead of being so quick about incapacitating him.

A new, sick feeling rolled in his gut as he heard a gunshot, not quick enough to get close by in time.

Hank recoiled, a hand pressed to his shoulder and curses spitting out of his mouth.

“Jesus fucking Christ you little bastard—” The Lieutenant grit his teeth, staggering back against the wall. The RK800’s gaze flickered over for the brief second he needed. Nothing major was hit, and Hank would be fine. It was a lucky shot.

The next feeling, he felt floating around in his mind and his gut was fiery. He placed it as anger mixed and muddled together with something else. Something he had never felt before.

He heard the staggering of sneakers on cobblestone, noting that Richard was trying to make his escape, but also that the man was somewhat panicking at the fact that he had just shot a human.

Connor seized his moment, and decided to shoot, the bullet piercing carefully through Richard’s leg and bringing him to the ground.

The objective cleared in his vision suddenly.

**Mission Complete**

-

“To quote you, Lieutenant;  _ Stop bitching _ .”

“What have I told you about mimicking my voice, Connor?”

Hank had been grumbling the whole drive home from the hospital. A few stitches in his shoulder and he was fine. Connor had already downloaded detailed instructions on how to care for him while he healed. Everything had been sorted out for a short medical leave, and quite frankly he thought they deserved some time off.

Connor reached out, carefully helping Hank with his jacket at the door. Sumo lumbered over to greet them with interest, getting his designated pat on the head from his owner and the loving scratch behind his ears from Connor.

“Hank’s fine, Sumo. He’s just going to be taking it easy for a couple of days.” Connor assured the dog, addressing him just like he would anyone else.

The human had gotten ahead of him already, walking over and sinking down onto the sofa. He rubbed at his shoulder idly.

“Don’t touch it so much already. We’ve only just got home.” Connor scolded, making his way towards the kitchen to sort through what he needed to attempt to make dinner. He wasn’t all that great at cooking yet, but he was trying.

Maybe part of it was his refusal to download anything for it, and simply trying to learn on his own using the old, actual paper cookbooks that Hank had lying around.

“Fuck off.”

So, he was grumpy still, and probably would be for the rest of the evening. A small smile played at Connor’s lips, finding it rather cute. Like a ruffled old owl who had been woken up from his daytime nap.

In a moment of impulse, Connor abandoned any efforts to make dinner and crossed his way over to the couch. It took one swift movement to straddle Hank’s lap, and a gentler one to brush the stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“…I was worried today, Hank.” He said, a tiny frown now chiseled into his features. Connor’s expression was pinched, looking elsewhere as he tried to sort what he was feeling out. “I didn’t like seeing that. I don’t want to see something like that again.”

Hank was watching him, one hand settling comfortably on Connor’s hip. It was all too easy, like it belonged there.

“I know, kid.” He spoke finally, his voice adopting that soft tone. The one they used when they were alone. “I was worried too. Couldn’t sit in that fucking car for long knowing you were just in there with a guy that had it out for you.”

Connor met his gaze, feeling a mutual understanding pass between them. He liked to think he knew Hank just a little more now and was learning more and more about him each and every day.

“…Hank?” He mumbled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Hank closed his eyes, taking a breath before he responded. “Yeah?”

“…show me another one of your movies?” Connor shifted in his lap and burrowed against him while staying mindful of his shoulder.

Hank laughed quietly, “You gonna talk shit the whole time and poke holes in the plot?”

“You would be bored if I didn’t.”

Connor smiled wider than he had in the past few days, feeling the scratchy kiss being pressed against his LED. It gave a flicker of pleasant blue, then settled back steady.

“…Yeah. Yeah, kid, you’ve got me there.”

The android blinked, tilting his head to look at Hank ever slightly. “…I do have you, and you have me. We’ve got each other.”

It was there again, that softening of Hank’s expression. Anything hard and aged immediately slid away, his body seemed to ease. It seemed as if Connor could remind him of something or give him a pleasant emotion with just a single few words. It felt good to be able to be that to him, to be a comfort, and hopefully make him feel loved.

“…Damn right, Con. We’ve got each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on twitter @acornandroid


End file.
